


A Creature Known as Dean

by Rosawyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bigotry & Prejudice, Blood Drinking, Courtroom Drama, Crowley (Supernatural) Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Demons, Fae & Fairies, Finger Sucking, Healer Castiel (Supernatural), Hugs, Hurt Dean Winchester, Imprisonment, Kneeling, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Rescue, Reunions, Shapeshifting, Witch's Familiar Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29421291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosawyn/pseuds/Rosawyn
Summary: Healer Castiel is put on trial when evidence comes to light that his familiar may in fact be a malevolent Creature.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32
Collections: Profound Bond Gift Exchange: Reunion





	A Creature Known as Dean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darkwings17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkwings17/gifts).



> Written as part of the ProfoundBond Gift Exchange Round 7 - Reunion. My giftee listed "witch/familiar" among her favourite tropes, and as I wasn't really sure what that meant I Googled and ended up reading Wikipedia's fascinating page on the subject which became quite a detailed prompt for this fic. I really do hope that's what she had in mind! This was so much fun to write as I love Medieval Fantasy AUs myself. :)
> 
> Huge thanks to [jemariel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jemariel), [ChocolateCoveredPortals](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCoveredPortals), and [EstherA2J](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EstherA2J) for all the help and support as I panicked my way through various stages of this.

“Healer Castiel Milton,” Judge Naomi Edlund said, voice ringing clear in the courtroom, “you stand today accused of wilfully and knowingly employing a malevolent Creature known as Dean Smith, feeding and harbouring said Creature in your home, and drawing upon his unclean power to do unlawful magics. How do you plead?”

Castiel raised his chin. “Not guilty.”

Edlund narrowed her eyes slightly at Castiel, her lips a prim line. “You deny all these charges against you?”

Castiel nodded. “I do. In all the time I've known him, Dean never once behaved in a manner I could describe as 'malevolent', and as a magic is only unlawful if it by design or accident harms another person or their property, I maintain that I have not performed unlawful magic.”

Edlund raised a brow. “You claim to have never once in your entire life harmed anyone or their property, even by accident?”

With an annoyed huff, Castiel rolled his eyes. “In my youth there were some times when I did through inexperience cause some minor harm, but none of that was within this jurisdiction.”

Edlund raised her brow again. “And all of that was before you acquired the Creature known as Dean Smith?”

“It was.” Castiel nodded. He had neither been very young nor particularly inexperienced when he first met Dean. Perhaps Castiel had been naive, though, as he had never quite expected or properly prepared for this turn of events.

“Well.” Edlund folded her hands on the dark wood surface before her. “If we determine that your familiar Creature was in fact malevolent, all magics you performed with his aid will be rendered unlawful.” She considered Castiel for a moment. “You do admit that you had a Creature known as Dean Smith in your employ?”

Castiel nodded again. “I do.”

“And where is he now?” Edlund demanded.

“He was injured in the battle with the Shade,” Castiel explained, “and retreated to heal.”

Edlund pursed her lips slightly. “And it is my understanding from the officers who brought you in after that incident that you have refused to summon your familiar.”

“I refuse to put his health and safety in peril,” Castiel replied firmly. “If it is a crime to refuse, then I will accept due punishment.”

Edlund turned to look at the three people seated at a table to her right whom she had previously introduced as Scholar Sam Wesson, Seer Missouri Moseley, and Seer Kevin Tran. “Scholar Sam, is it indeed a crime?”

Wesson cleared his throat. “It could perhaps be considered a minor offence to refuse to cooperate with officials in this manner. Though—” He glanced sideways at his companions. “—if the familiar is injured, attempting to summon him could in fact interfere with his recovery.”

“A familiar might also,” Moseley added, “depending on the severity of his injuries, be unable to comply with such a summons.”

Edlund inclined her head slightly. “Thank you, Seer Missouri, Scholar Sam.” She turned her gaze back to Castiel. “Healer Castiel, can you describe your first encounter with your familiar and how he came into your employ?”

Castiel shifted slightly where he stood, clasping his hands behind his back. The material of his robe itched just a bit around his neck but he ignored it. The smells of dust and too many people irritated his nose but he ignored that too. “Dean was injured when I found him.” Castiel winced slightly as the memory washed over him. The copper flash of Anna's hair in the unnatural light, the dull clatter as the broken pieces of the collar tumbled to the ground, the smell of blood and sulphur in the too-hot air, Balthazar's grimace as he turned from Dean's crumpled form and suggested the merciful thing would be to end his suffering swiftly. “Dying, in fact.”

“You just happened upon an injured fae?” Edlund asked.

Castiel suppressed a wince. “My family, as some of you may know, has for generations fought against malevolent Creatures when they appear in our realm. I was on one such a mission with my sister Anna and my cousin Balthazar, and Dean when we found him had been injured by the monster we were fighting.”

“What monster was that?” Edlund pressed.

“A demon,” Castiel replied, “whom we successfully banished.”

“And how can you be certain,” Edlund asked, “that the injured Creature you happened to find alongside this demon was not in fact also a demon himself?” Before Castiel could formulate an answer to that, Edlund turned to Wesson again asking, “Scholar Sam, how would a person of some cunning determine the status of a Creature? Is it possible that a demon could successfully have impersonated a fae to the point that one such as Healer Castiel might have been entirely fooled?”

Wesson grimaced slightly. “Under the right circumstances, a skilled demon could probably fool most anyone—but perhaps more important to this discussion is the relationship between fae and demons. Considerable evidence suggests that fae and demons are in fact not two species, but one, and thus a single being may move from fae to demon and back in the course of their lifetime. This of course leads to your other question: how _can_ one determine the difference? Both fae and demons of course possess the ability to change their appearance, often managing to be indistinguishable from humans even for extended periods of time. A simple test, of course, is Blessed Water. Healer Castiel,” he added, turning to Castiel, “you know of this?”

“I do,” Castiel confirmed.

“And you've administered Blessed Water to your familiar at some point?” Wesson asked.

“Many times, as is advisable for us all in ritual cleansing.” Castiel had been administering it quite regularly, though of course never directly; Castiel drank it and then had Dean drink his blood. Administering the Water directly, at least early on, might have killed Dean. At this point it would probably have been safe to try having Dean touch it, but Castiel hadn't been in a rush.

“And he's never reacted in a negative way to that?” Wesson continued.

Castiel shook his head. “He's always tolerated it without any complaint or physical sign of distress or lingering symptoms.”

Wesson leaned back in his chair. “If Healer Castiel's testimony is true, Dean must indeed be a fae.”

“You've just told us these creatures are more or less one in the same,” Edlund commented.

“Any Creature corrupted enough to accurately be called a 'demon',” Wesson countered, “could not tolerate any contact with Blessed Water.”

“During the battle with the Shade,” Edlund countered, “this Creature when injured took a demonic form—many witnesses, in fact all present, have reported seeing curved horns in the place of branching antlers and leathery wings replace the transparent 'insect-like' ones upon his back.” She pinned Castiel with a sharp look. “You were present for the battle, Healer Castiel. Surely you must have seen the same.”

Castiel opened his mouth, but after what was likely far too long a pause the best response he could formulate was, “He is a shapeshifter.” Swallowing, Castiel added, “On one occasion he took my own appearance in unnerving detail.”

“Yes, but,” Wesson put in, shifting in his seat and folding his hands on the table, “transforming or maintaining a form always takes a certain level of concentration. Often maintained while sleeping, yes, but not when gravely injured or near death.”

Edlund inclined her head in apparent interest. “So you believe this must have been the Creature's true form?”

Wesson winced, spreading his hands. “The Water Test should be infallible. I wish I could see, could study the Creature.”

“But a Creature's true form reflects their inner nature, does it not?” Edlund pressed.

Discomfort flickered across Wesson's face. “Evidence does, uh, overwhelmingly point in that direction.”

“This transformation took place,” Tran commented, “at the moment Dean took a significant blow from the Shade.” He folded his hands on the tabletop. “Perhaps the transformation had more to do with the Shade's nature than with Dean's.”

Moseley nodded. “Contact with a Shade can have unpredictable effects. While not all Shades are destructive by nature, we know _this_ one was angry and violent. We must remember this fight was to protect a child.”

“How is the child?” Castiel looked up from where he'd taken a seat on the provided stool. He'd been so worried about Dean this whole time that he'd forgotten to ask.

“The child appears to be recovering,” Moseley assured him.

“We are of course carefully monitoring the child,” Edlund put in, “in light of this evidence that your magic may be tainted.”

Wesson cleared his throat. “Healer Castiel, can you describe your familiar's mood and attitude leading up to the battle? Was he unsettled or upset? Agitated?”

“He...” The image of Dean pacing the bit of open floor before Castiel's desk floated to the forefront of Castiel's mind. The familiar sound of cloven hooves against the wooden floorboards. One corner of Dean's lips flickering upwards as he shot Castiel a mildly impatient look. Castiel swallowed, feeling guilty. “He was hungry.”

Wesson's brows drew together. “Had he not eaten recently?”

Castiel shifted and rubbed at his arm through the material of his robe. “He's perfectly capable of getting most things for himself—he even cooks for me sometimes, especially when I get busy and distracted.” A soft smile stole onto Castiel's face. “He loves meat. And sweets.” Castiel pressed his lips together. “But he was craving blood, my blood. I was translating, trying to finish a particularly vexing paragraph. I said...once I'm done, but before I was done the knock came at the door begging our help.”

“And how did he react to that?” Wesson asked. “To the prospect of battle?”

“With...determination,” Castiel replied, “resolve. Dean typically enjoys a fight, but most prominent is his worry for those he's protecting, especially when children are involved.” Castiel winced slightly. “We didn't expect the battle to be so difficult, for the Shade to prove so powerful. And I was too busy, too focused on the child—whom we found near death—to offer much help in the battle itself.”

“And how was Dean's overall health before the battle?” Wesson asked. “Had he suffered any recent injuries?”

Castiel grimaced. “Dean was always recovering, gradually but steadily. There were no major new injuries, but he'd never fully recovered from the injures he had when I first found him.” It had been a while, but, “It takes a lot to bring a Creature such as him to the brink of death; his injuries were deep and profound.”

“Can you describe how you first formed your bond with him?” Tran asked. “You said he was near death—was he conscious?”

“He...” Castiel grimaced at the memory of Dean's bloodied form trembling on the ground. “His eyes were open and he seemed to see me.” Castiel winced. “He—flinched, as I approached him.” The memory of Balthazar warning, 'There's no going back from this, Cassie,' swam vivid within Castiel's mind. Grimacing again, Castiel swallowed. “I cut my finger and offered it to him, speaking gently, letting him know I wouldn't hurt him.”

Tran shared a glance with Wesson before returning his gaze to Castiel. “But he took the offered blood of his own accord?”

Looking down at his hands, Castiel worried his fingers a bit. “I believe he understood I didn't mean to hurt him, that I was trying to help. He may not have...fully understood what I was offering, what it meant.”

Wesson cleared his throat. “In most recorded cases, a Creature approaches a human to offer a bond. Obviously not all are willing to wait for such an event, and a human seeking out a bond is common enough. But there is some...compelling evidence that forcibly bonding a Creature corrupts the bond...and with it the Creature.” Castiel looked up, eyes wide and chest constricting at the thought that Castiel himself may have added even a hint of additional injury to what Dean had already suffered. Holding up a hand, Wesson added, “Now, I'm not saying that's what you did. What you're describing isn't what I'd categorize as 'forcing'. But there is something of a continuum between a Creature in their fully sound mind entering into an unrushed and freely-chosen bond and...a Creature injured and near death for whom the bond may be his only chance of survival.”

Castiel nodded slowly. “I see your point.”

“Just as there is of course between that,” Wesson continued, “and tying a Creature up and prying their mouth open to pour the blood in.” He shrugged. “I can't exactly call what you did unethical.”

“But it was dangerous,” Edlund commented. She turned her unyielding gaze on Castiel. “You were unaware of this risk, Healer Castiel?”

Castiel winced. “I was aware that some go out seeking Creatures to bond, to augment their magic. And that some even resort to trickery or violence to achieve that end. I...suppose I never looked much deeper into the practice as I always found the idea abhorrent.” He let out a tired breath. “So no, I was unaware of the potential side-effects of initiating bonds in that manner.”

“And your kin whom you mentioned being present for this event,” Edlund asked, “were they aware of your intentions? You are a family of monster-hunters; perhaps one of them may have been aware of risks that you were not. Did neither offer any warnings on this matter?”

“On this matter, no,” Castiel answered truthfully. Balthazar's concern had been more about Dean's obvious demonic appearance. All Anna had said was to be careful.

“And how has your familiar fared in your care?” Moseley asked, elbows resting on the table and hands folded in front of her collarbones. “Has he seemed content?”

Castiel nodded. “For the most part, yes. He's seemed...restless at times, always eager to find some activity to fill his days.” Castiel shrugged. “Though he does like reading, so long as there's a story.” Castiel's lips twisted wryly. “He's not keen on research tomes and the like. But he has from the start expressed both gratitude and affection towards me.”

“So he was,” Wesson added, “typically affectionate?”

The image of Dean's eyelids fluttering as he sucked on Castiel's fingers, a helpless sound in his throat, coalesced in Castiel's mind, followed after by the image of Dean curling against Castiel's side in bed at night and nuzzling his face into Castiel's neck or lying his cheek against Castiel's chest and peeking up at Castiel through his lashes. “Yes, very much so.”

“I fail to see how this is relevant,” Edlund cut in.

“I'm just—trying to understand,” Wesson argued.

“I think we understand all that we need to,” Edlund countered. “If we take Healer Castiel's testimony as entirely truthful and assume he is neither leaving out relevant details or otherwise intentionally misleading us, we still have a very real possibility that the Creature Dean Smith may have intentionally misled Healer Castiel, and even if we assume said Creature did not intentionally deceive we still have the very real possibility that an improperly-begun bond has tainted the Creature and drawn what was once a benevolent fae into the realm of malevolence.” She fixed Wesson with a cool look. “Are there plausible possibilities I have missed?”

“Well, I...” Frowning, Wesson shifted some sheets of parchment in front of him and shook his hair off his forehead. “I feel like there must be something important that we're missing.” When Edlund raised a brow, he said, “For one thing, in your first listed possibility, the Water Test—I maintain that with valid Blessed Water a properly-administered test should be impossible to fool.”

Pursing her lips, Edlund folded her hands on the bar. “If Healer Castiel's magic was tainted, would that be enough to invalidate the power of water he himself blessed?”

Wesson winced. “It...might.” Wesson turned to Castiel. “Healer Castiel, when you administered Blessed Water to Dean, was there ever a time it was water blessed by anyone other than yourself?”

Castiel frowned, trying to remember. “I...can't be sure.” He grimaced. “Blessing water is one of the first things a Healer learns in their craft, and to be perfectly honest I typically consider water I've blessed to be a safer option because I can be sure of the source, but I normally would view water blessed by my sister or cousin much the same way. Though—” He shrugged. “—I have not seen Anna or Balthazar much since bonding Dean as they've continued to travel.”

Edlund frowned at him. “Was there some falling-out between you and your family?”

“Not at all,” Castiel replied. “Once Dean was enough recovered, I'd always planned to rejoin Anna and Balthazar, at least for some missions.”

“What about,” Wesson cut in, “water you'd blessed before initiating the bond with Dean? Perhaps early on?”

Castiel nodded slowly. “Again I can't really be sure, but it does seem...likely that I would have had some water already blessed by either myself or by Anna or Balthazar and would have used that in one or more of our early cleansing rituals.”

“Even if you could be sure, Healer Castiel,” Edlund said, “ _we_ cannot. Unfortunately for you and your familiar, I see significant evidence of very real danger here. If you still refuse to summon your Creature for our inspection, you leave us little choice.”

o0o

“Missouri and Kevin tell me,” Wesson said standing outside Castiel's cell in the flicker of the evening torchlight, “that your testimony was sincere and also that you're definitely hiding something.”

Castiel looked up from where he sat on the narrow dusty bunk. The thin excuse for a straw tick would be rather uncomfortable if Castiel had any inclination to sleep that night. “And what have you deduced from that?”

Wesson's brown hair fell across his forehead as he ducked his head, shaking it. “Even if you are wilfully and knowingly protecting a partially-corrupted Creature, I don't believe that's worthy of death.” Grimacing, he shrugged. “Far from it. I begged for time to investigate more thoroughly, but...Judge Naomi is unyielding.”

Castiel stood and walked to the barred window, looking out into the incongruously pleasant night. It seemed so unfair that the moon shone so softly and the breezes blew so gently on this of all nights. “What would you do, had you the time?”

After a pause, Wesson said, “Given enough time, Dean's injuries should heal to the point where it would be safe for him to come to you.” Castiel nodded. In truth that time had likely already come. Maybe it was a testament to Dean's wisdom that he had stayed away thus far. “Would he...? Do you think, were I to administer it,” Wesson asked carefully, “he could pass a Water Test?”

Castiel opened his mouth and his gaze moved upwards to look upon what he could see of the starry sky. Finally he admitted, “I...don't know. It's certainly...possible.”

The metal bars made a clanging sound and Castiel turned to see Wesson gripping them with one hand. “Call him,” Wesson said. Grimacing, he added, “How could it hurt, really? They're executing you tomorrow.” Twisting his lips, he looked away. “When that happens...does he return to the fae realm?” Sighing, Castiel looked down at the straw-strewn floor. Dean may never have been to the fae realm and even if he could possibly enter in his current state he likely didn't know the way. “I can bless water,” Wesson pressed. “If I administer the test and he passes, Judge Naomi would have to overturn her ruling.”

And if Dean failed, well... Dean was going to die an agonizing drawn-out death anyway unless he could find some escape from the human realm once the bond broke. Unbound Creatures never could stay long, but the shock of Castiel's death would undoubtedly speed the process. “She might...” Castiel realized, “demand that he pass more than one test.” He rubbed at his forehead. “From more than one person.”

Wesson grimaced. “She might.”

“Too much Blessed Water could still kill him,” Castiel mused quietly. “I've always...been careful.”

“Of course.” Wesson nodded. “But, Castiel.” He fixed Castiel with a serious look. “He could die anyway. And you will die anyway.”

Castiel nodded tiredly. Wesson was right. Reaching within himself to gather his power, Castiel closed his eyes and reached outwards only to find...nothing. Frowning, Castiel opened his eyes and looked at Wesson. “I can't find him. Not like...he's dead, but...like he's hidden. Shrouded by some great magical force, something well beyond my own.”

Wesson nodded, frowning slightly. “Perhaps...” He shrugged, letting both hands slap lightly against the fabric of his trousers. “He could be in the fae realm. You wouldn't be able to summon him if he were there.”

It was unlikely enough to seem impossible, but Castiel merely nodded.

Maybe the thought could help Wesson feel better, at least.

o0o

The sun shone pale and bright in Castiel's tired eyes, and the air was cool against his face and hands as he tried to keep them from shaking.

The gathering crowd murmured and stared, and perhaps it was some comfort to think how most of them didn't know him. They were of this city, not the smaller village where he and Dean had lived and worked these past few years.

The guard caught Castiel's arm to steady him as he stepped onto the platform and Castiel murmured, “Thank you,” before realizing just how strange that was.

Castiel missed Anna and Balthazar terribly. Objectively it was probably best they weren't here, but he just—wanted to see them both, to hug them and tell them he loved them. Perhaps he should have asked for ink and parchment and written them a letter rather than simply sitting up with Wesson all night. Wesson would no doubt have fetched the things, even scribed if Castiel's hand had trembled or eyes blurred too much to write. But maybe Castiel just didn't want this to feel real.

The wood of the pole at Castiel's back felt solid as the guards bound him securely.

More than anything, Castiel just wanted to see Dean. To tell Dean how very proud he was of him and how much he loved him. Had Castiel ever properly expressed that?

Edlund's clear voice was reading out Castiel's conviction, but he couldn't make himself follow the words. He'd heard it before, anyway. He knew why he was here: he'd shown more compassion than he ought to and by doing so he'd put many people in some vague danger. He couldn't quite feel like that was wrong. Maybe sometimes a person's conscience demanded they save the one and let the hundreds sort themselves out. And if a law defined 'malevolence' on appearance and the ability to tolerate a certain type of magic water, then the law was wrong.

“Healer Castiel,” Edlund's voice cut through Castiel's thoughts, and her tone suggested perhaps this was not the first time she'd tried.

Castiel looked up. “Yes?”

“Do you have any last words?”

Oh, right. Castiel swallowed. Perhaps he couldn't make his voice carry quite far enough for most of the crowd to hear, but Edlund's scribe stood at the ready to record Castiel's statement. “In all the time I've known him, Dean was never malevolent.” Clouds darkened over the square and the air chilled. Several in the crowd looked up and about worriedly, probably rethinking their decision to attend an execution that day. Castiel made his voice as strong and sure as he could. “He's always been...kind. Perhaps it is easier to go about your lives judging people by appearances—”

All the hairs on Castiel's arms stood up. Narrowing his eyes, he looked at the sky just in time to see Dean burst out of the clouds like a clap of thunder, wings dark and imposing against the darkening sky.

At the same time, a cloud of dark purple smoke burst out from some point that must have been close to the base of the post at Castiel's back. People shouted as the cloud enveloped them, but then Dean was there, alighting right in front of Castiel and folding Castiel in his wings. Dean pulled a knife from a sheath on his leg and reached around to cut Castiel's bonds. Dean smiled crookedly, breath warm against Castiel's face. “Miss me?”

Before Castiel managed any response other than widened eyes, Dean wrapped his wings tighter around Castiel and everything winked out.

o0o

“Dean!” Castiel exclaimed when they re-materialized and Dean carefully set Castiel on his feet on a smooth stone floor. But it...shouldn't have been possible. Gripping Dean's biceps for balance, Castiel glanced about the space until his eyes fell upon the one factor he apparently hadn't let himself consider, the robed man leaning casually against the wall with his arms folded and a smirk on his face. So, not the fae realm after all, then. Castiel's lips twisted with distaste as the realization twisted his gut. “Crowley.”

Crowley's smirk turned into a grin and he stepped away from the wall to offer a smooth bow. “At your service.”

Castiel's gaze moved from Crowley to Dean to Crowley and back. “I...didn't want Crowley's help.”

Dean's gaze hardened and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “I didn't either, but I needed it. _You_ needed it.” Dean's gaze burned intense and insistent. “They were going to kill you, Cas. Did you have some other plan? Some better option?”

Castiel dropped his gaze. “No,” he admitted quietly. His hands moved gently against the warm skin of Dean's arms. “I'm sorry.” Pressing his lips together he glanced up at Crowley again before seeking Dean's gaze. “But Dean...what could you possibly have paid him?”

“He hasn't yet,” Crowley put in.

Keeping one hand firmly gripping Dean's arm, Castiel stepped a little away from him to face Crowley. “What does he owe you?”

A smirk twisted Crowley's lips. “I haven't decided yet.” He turned to face Castiel more fully. “Ah, but where are my manners? You must think me a terrible host. Come, have a seat.” He gestured to a bed against the nearby wall. “You must be exhausted from your ordeal. I've had my own familiars prepare this room for you and Dean—I trust it's to your liking, but if there's anything we can do to make you more comfortable, don't hesitate to ask. And as I'm sure you're in need of some refreshment, I'll just go fetch that.”

Castiel watched Crowley's exit with narrowed eyes then turned back to Dean. “We owe him a favour? That's what you offered him?”

“ _I_ owe him a favour,” Dean countered, steering Castiel over to the bed and making him sit. “I had no other options—do you think I'd have come to him if I saw some other way?”

“How did you even find him?” Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged, looking away. “There was a spell—in one of your books—for contacting another magic user. I think I actually did very badly at it, but he was...waiting for me.”

Castiel scoffed softly. “I'm sure he's happy to have us owe him our lives.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “He didn't actually want you dead. Or me, I guess. He's not entirely evil.”

“He's selfish,” Castiel countered. “Which can be as bad.”

“It can also be useful,” Dean shot back. Grimacing, he looked away. “Look, Crowley made sure no one would get...seriously hurt. I insisted on that, and as far as I saw no one did.” Crouching down, he sought Castiel's eyes, one hand gently touching Castiel's face. “Cas, are you angry with me?”

Castiel shook his head, tears in his eyes. “I'm just angry with _me_ , Dean.”

“Wh—” Dean shook his head. “Why would you be angry with yourself?”

Castiel's hand found Dean's on his shoulder and squeezed it. “I haven't taken proper care of you.”

“What, you mean because of this?” Dean looked down at himself with a bashful smile. “This was just easier—I can make myself pretty again.” To prove his point he shifted into his fae form. He offered Castiel a smile. “See?”

“But you needed the other form for the rescue,” Castiel guessed.

Dean grimaced slightly. “I probably could have done it either way, but...I was a bit hungry—and still recovering. I just didn't want to take any chances I didn't need to.”

Worry creased Castiel's brow. “Haven't you been eating?”

“No, I have,” Dean insisted. “I've had a lot of honey and alcohol—that's what Crowley's familiars, Meg and Ruby, eat the most. But we've had meat too. Venison mostly. It's nice.”

One side of Castiel's lips flickered upwards. “I don't suppose you've had any Blessed Water?”

Chuckling, Dean shook his head. “Nah, I mean Crowley said he could _try_ to make some if I wanted it, but I was pretty sure he'd do it wrong.”

Castiel raised his brows. “I have no doubt he would fail spectacularly.”

“Such confidence you have in my skills,” Crowley commented from the doorway before walking over to set a tray down on the bedside table with a metallic clink. “Though, if anyone has need of any Blessed Water, I'm sure _you_ —” He pointed at Castiel. “—can manage a bit.” He flicked his brows upwards as he poured steaming tea into a cup. “But please do keep it away from my familiars; yours might tolerate it at this point, but they rather would not, I expect.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said softly, accepting the teacup. Clearing his throat, he added, “I know this is a business arrangement, but nonetheless I am indeed grateful.”

Crowley shrugged as he offered the second cup of tea to Dean. “Well, I've never seen anything wrong with mixing a little business in with pleasure, or the other way around.” He offered Castiel a small smile. “I find this particular business diverting—a man has to have some entertainment, hmm?”

Castiel took a careful sip of the tea. “I suppose.” He grimaced slightly. “Though I...” He sighed. “At this point Dean and I can't return to that town or anywhere near it.” They should seek out Anna and Balthazar, perhaps rejoin them on their ongoing quest. Wherever they might be. Castiel winced. “I suppose I actually have no idea where we currently are.”

Crowley leaned lazily against the wall. “You're welcome to stay here as long as you like. I can have Meg and Ruby help pick up your things from...wherever they currently are.” He frowned slightly. “I suppose it's possible the zealous little townspeople have cleaned out your adorable little tower already.” He shrugged. “But I doubt they'd have intentionally destroyed anything without doing their best to look it over first, try to suss out its relative evilness. Don't worry, Castiel; you won't lose the bulk of your life's work.”

Castiel turned the teacup in his hands. “There certainly are a few things...texts and talismans and the like that I'd prefer not to lose, if possible. But the most important things...I never wrote down.” Taking Dean's hand, he turned a soft smile on him. “My true life's work? That's Dean.”

“You two are going to give me cavities,” Crowley said as Dean returned Castiel's smile all fond and warm. “You're so very gentle with him, Castiel. Honestly. I've often theorized that you could force a change in a Creature so close to the line as he is in an afternoon by simply submerging them in a vat of Blessed Water. In an uninjured subject—bit of fortifying magic ahead of time should forestall any unfortunate death-related side effects.” Tilting his head to the side thoughtfully, he added, “I've half a mind to try that with Meg one of these days.”

Wincing internally, Castiel chose not to comment on that particular idea and simply said, “I'm not trying to force anything.”

“I do talk a big game,” Crowley added with an unconcerned flick of his brows, “but in truth I haven't even been able to convince either of mine to take on a much more appealing masculine form.” Shooting Dean an encouraging little grin, he added, “Can you do the human one?”

“He's tired,” Castiel objected. “And also he's not your dancing monkey.”

Crowley flashed Castiel a grin. “No; he's yours. But you do have a point and I should get out of your way. I've had Meg and Ruby ready the baths for you. Dean can show you the way. It's not far.”

As the door closed behind Crowley, Dean indicated the tray. “There's food as well.”

Castiel grimaced. “I'm not sure I could eat, in truth.”

“A little broth?” Dean tried, picking up the bowl.

Castiel allowed Dean to feed him a little of the broth which was pleasantly warm and not too salty on his tongue. Pausing, Castiel frowned. “You said you were hungry.”

Dean dropped his gaze. “Just...” His fingertips ghosted over Castiel's wrist and along his fingers. He swallowed. “It's been...a while.”

“Oh, Dean.” Castiel ran the fingers of his other hand through Dean's soft hair, the petals of his flower-crown brushing gently against Castiel's skin. “I do like the flowers.”

Dean's cheeks pinked a little. “Thanks, uh—they do look pretty fae-like, don't they?”

“I wish you didn't have to pretend,” Castiel admitted.

Dean shrugged one shoulder. “I don't really mind.” He flexed his wings and candlelight glimmered off their iridescent surface. “I like being pretty.”

“I just mean you shouldn't have to,” Castiel insisted. “It should always be your choice.” He winced slightly. “Anyway, I'm so sorry I'm still making you wait.”

“It's all right.” Dean knelt before Castiel and something in his posture suggested he'd continue to wait as long as Castiel asked. Something helpless tugged at Dean's smile as he added, “Just glad to have you back.”

A bit of soft smile flickered its way across Castiel's face as he looked about. “I suppose I don't have...” He held up his hand, fingers splayed. “No blade or knife.” Not even on the tray Crowley had brought with food. Castiel winced. “Not even a pin or needle...”

“Here.” Dean extended one curved and pointed claw, a little incongruous with his gentle fae form. “You can heal it after anyway, right? Just like always?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, of course.” When Dean hesitated again with his claw above Castiel's skin, Castiel added, “Go on; it's all right.”

It stung, of course. And it was in fact a little different letting Dean be the one to puncture Castiel's skin. Dean murmured, “Sorry.”

Castiel shook his head. This was necessary and nothing for which Dean needed to apologize. “Just relax, all right?” Castiel ran the fingers of his other hand though Dean's hair. “You don't have to look a certain way,” Castiel said. “It's just you and me.”

Dean nodded a bit as he pulled his claw back and a sort of ripple ran through his body with a gentle sigh as he shifted fully into his demon form, leather wings snapping a little as Dean's mouth closed over the beading drop of blood on Castiel's finger.

Smiling fondly, Castiel stroked his hand through Dean's hair again and up over the glossy curve of one horn. “There's my sweet boy.” Dean looked up at him through his lashes and sucked harder, making a helpless sound. His wings gave another little snap. “Shh, shh.” Castiel stroked Dean's cheek. “It's all right. I'm here.”

With a soft whimper, Dean laid his head against Castiel's thigh, gently sucking at Castiel's finger. One of his hands caught Castiel's ankle, just holding on.

After a while Dean released Castiel's finger and lightly kissed the tip. Castiel couldn't help smiling as he quietly drew the touch of power needed to heal the wound.

“Missed you,” Dean said, voice a little rough.

Castiel worried his lower lip a bit in thought as he let his thumb slide along the curve of one of Dean's horns. “Do you ever—?”

Dean blinked up at him. “Do I ever what?”

Castiel grimaced. “Do you ever...resent me, our bond?”

Dean frowned. “Why would I?”

Castiel sighed, lips twisting unhappily. “Because you didn't really have a choice. And now you're...stuck with me.”

Dean chuckled, dropping his gaze. “Maybe you're stuck with me.”

Castiel chucked softly as well and let his fingers trail down the side of Dean's jaw before letting his hand fall into his lap. “I suppose I am.”

Dean's hooves scuffled a bit against the stone floor as he shifted to sitting cross-legged at Castiel's feet. “Do you mind? Being stuck with me.”

“Never,” Castiel replied truthfully.

“Well...” Dean's gaze slipped away. “If you ever do get tired of me...” He scrubbed the fingers of one hand through his short hair. “Crowley says he knows a way to break a bond like ours, maybe even without injuring me in the process.”

Castiel's eyes widened. “Have you...considered it?”

Dean grimaced. “Not really. I mean, I suppose I'm grateful that he gave me the option.” Dean wrinkled his nose slightly and waved a hand. “Told me about it when we were still in the planning stages of your rescue. Said if I survived the spell he could bond me himself or open a portal to the demon realm and toss me back in.”

Castiel's lips twisted unhappily and he dropped his gaze to his folded hands. “I suppose you don't have any good options.”

Dean took Castiel's hands in a firm grip, seeking Castiel's gaze. “I have you.” Ducking his head, Dean pressed his lips to Castiel’s hands. With a little shrug he murmured, voice rough, “You’re the best option I could ever ask for.”

**Author's Note:**

> Link to the ProfoundBond Discord Server: <https://discord.gg/profoundbond>


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